Traitor to the Throne (Rebel of the Sands, #2)(85)

Centuries passed.

Fereshteh didn’t know how many, for only those whose days were numbered counted them. He tried to stay away from the humans at first. But they were constantly changing. It was hard not to watch them. Every time Fereshteh thought he had grown bored of them they did something new. They made something new, sometimes out of nothing. Palaces rose higher than before. Train tracks carried them across the desert. Music sprang seemingly from their minds to their fingers. And every so often Fereshteh could not resist temptation any more. But time taught him ways to avoid the grief. He never looked over the children he gave mortal women. He had no interest in watching little pieces of himself be destroyed by the world his fellow Djinn had allowed to continue.

Then there came a day when Fereshteh heard his name being called with an order he could not disobey. And so it was that he came to stand prisoner in front of a Sultan and a Demdji. A Demdji holding a child that Fereshteh had marked as his own, though he had already forgotten the child’s mother. It was easier that way.

But he remembered all his children. And he remembered the pain he had felt when each of them died. So when the Sultan held a knife above this child, and asked for the names of his fellow Djinn, he surrendered easily. He could not watch this spark of himself die.

He gave Darayavahush’s name first. He gave the Sultan only the names of the Djinn who had been stupid enough to think that humanity was harmless and worth saving. The ones who had cast a vote to let them live. Half the Djinn in the desert.

And he laughed as, one by one, they became trapped by the creatures they had chosen to let live.





Chapter 33

The Sultan had been dangerous enough with one Djinni. Now he had an army of them. They might’ve created humanity to fight their wars, but there were stories of what happened when immortals entered the wars of men, too. Cruel conquerors who leashed them in iron and turned their powers against helpless nations. The heroes who won Djinn over to their side by sheer virtue and flattened their enemies. No matter what the circumstances, immortals were unstoppable.

My thoughts were in a storm as the Sultan led me back to the harem, one firm hand on my spine. There was too much to do and not enough time.

I had to get news of the other Djinn to Sam. And I had to make sure Fadi, who was screaming in my arms, was safe in the palace. I had to find a way to save Shira. And I had to do it before Ayet betrayed me to the Sultan. Shira giving birth had distracted everyone, but it was only a matter of time now before Ayet got Kadir or someone else to listen to her and the Sultan found out I was the Blue-Eyed Bandit. And then it would be over. I had to do everything I could to help before it all ended.

‘Father.’ My thoughts were interrupted by Rahim. He was striding down the hallway toward us, his collar unfastened, hair dishevelled, trailed by two servants. Dawn was just breaking but he looked like he hadn’t had any sleep all night. He would be in trouble too when Ayet sold me out. What was he still doing here? ‘A word.’

He drew his father to one side, out of earshot from me, leaning in close to say something rapid-fire under his breath. I was suddenly nervous. He was still here, and there was no way Rahim would let Leyla’s life be put in danger. He’d choose her over me in a second. I had no doubt about that. Same as I’d do for any of the Rebellion over the two of them. I didn’t begrudge him that. But it hadn’t ever crossed my mind that he might save his own skin by selling mine out instead of waiting until Ayet could do it for us.

‘Forgive me.’ The two servants with Rahim stepped in front of me, blocking my view of my so-called ally. One was reaching for Fadi in my arms expectantly, her head bowed.

‘No.’ I pulled Fadi closer to my pounding heart. I wasn’t going to hand him over. I might not be able to do anything else before I got found out, but I wasn’t about to let another Demdji get swallowed up in the harem and disappear.

‘He needs to be fed.’ The second servant spoke up, a note of exasperation in her voice. ‘Now’s not the time to be difficult.’ It was the closest I’d ever seen to insolence in one of the harem servants. It made me look twice at her, but in spite of her voice, her head was bowed low in respect. She’d said it loud enough for the Sultan’s eyes to dart over.

‘Hand it over, Amani.’ The Sultan gave me a distracted order as he continued his conversation with Rahim. I tried to catch his eye over his father’s shoulder, but Rahim might as well never have known me for all the attention he was giving me.

‘It’s all right.’ The first servant, too, sounded familiar somehow, although I was sure I’d never seen her in the harem before. ‘We’ll take good care of him.’

In that moment, as the Sultan turned his back entirely on us, the first servant dared to lift her head fully and I was face-to-face with Hala.

She was hiding her golden skin from sight with an illusion but it was still umistakably her. It was unsettling; she was both wholly familiar and completely strange. Her high, arrogant cheekbones and long nose were unmistakable, but she looked younger and more vulnerable without her golden veneer.

And the other servant. I looked closer now. Her eyes were wrong. They weren’t the desert dark they ought to have been. Instead they were the colour of liquid gold.

Imin.

My heart sped up. Something was in motion. But I wasn’t sure what.

Imin winked at me. It was so quick that even if the Sultan had noticed, it would’ve been mistaken for a blink. I loosened my grip on the baby in my arms as I passed him over to Hala. I’d been given an order, yes, but there weren’t many people in the world I’d trust with Fadi more than Hala. She might not scream maternal instinct, but Demdji took care of their own.